Multiplayer Chronicles: Guardian
by Mike-045
Summary: Things have gone south at UNMC Outpost Theta. Communications died, bodies were found skinless or with holes in the chest. Or both. Whatever happened there, the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers are going to find out.
1. Chapter One

Hey, Mike-045 here. Yes, this story is contributing to Obsidian Thirteen's "Multiplayer Chronicles". Enjoy the ride.

* * *

The Marine collapsed next to a fallen column, breathing heavily. Though he still didn't have a clear idea of what was going on, he crawled to a COM station.

Suddenly, he whipped around and fired a prolonged burst into the darkness with his MA5C Assault Rifle…but nothing came back at him from the shadows. Trying to forget the horrible images burned deeply into his retinas, the young Marine brought the COM station to life. Turning about, he stared into the bleakness of United Nations Marine Corps Outpost Theta. The base was ruined; the Marine recited a prayer beneath his breath and hoped to his God that the power was still working.

A broken pipe was leaking somewhere, but other than that the stark hallways and grounds of the military base were deserted, and thus suitably silent.

His sense of paranoia had hit the metaphorical roof.

* * *

A soft light emanated from behind him, and the Marine warily turned his attention to the COM unit, hackles raised. Typing hurriedly, he accessed the planet's COM network and linked up with a satellite in orbit. Bouncing his signal off of it, he prepared the video feed on the E-band. He then turned back around and began to eject the nearly-spent magazine when something crashed in the darkness.

"You won't take me! I know you're coming! I'll kill every last one of you! You hear me?!"

He knew shouting wouldn't help. He also knew he had only a few more moments to live. But the Marine was determined this wouldn't be the end of things here.  
Peering into the shade, he did his best to see where the sound had come from while trying to ignore the rich, crimson slashes adorning the instacrete walls. Shaking from a chilling wind that wasn't there, he slowly revolved to face the COM unit. He noticed the video feed was live. Inhaling deeply, he ignored the pains in his chest and spoke into the microphone.

"My name is Tim…I mean, Timothy. Timothy Walters. Private First Class, Timothy Walters. The situation at United Nations Space Command Outpost Theta is FUBAR. Repeat, FUBAR. Just to...clarify, that means FUCKED UP BEYOND ALL RECOGNITION." He coughed heartily, then continued. "I don't know exactly what went down here, but…I do know this. They came in the night. Something. I was on duty…still in my ballistics and all. Guess I was lu-" he stopped and screamed throatily, writhing on the ground in agony. Clawing at the chest plate of his armor, he tore it off, shredding the straps that held it in place. Bleeding from the mouth, he leaned up weakly and stared into the screen, still alight. Coughing, he cleared his throat and continued, "Well, not so lucky then. I mean…at first we didn't really notice anything, y'know? Then we found Scott all trussed up in the rafters, goddamned hole in chest. Then people started screaming in the barracks…Sarge took me and three others to try and find out what was going on…on the way over there something jumped at me from the shadows and everything went dark. Whatever it was…looked like a big-ass spider, kinda. Kinda like those little shits in Cloverfield, y'know? Well, I woke up two hours later to find the base a mess. Nobody else around. Just me, all by my lonesome. Sarge…Bishop…Nate…everybody gone. Get it? GONE!!" His last word turned into an unearthly scream of pain, and, though he didn't see it, a fleshy bulge began to form on his chest, under his fatigues.  
Lunging forward, the Marine grabbed the COM unit by both sides and stared into the screen.  
"Send. Help."  
And with that, he screamed one last time as his chest burst forth in a crimson fountain, showering the screen.

* * *

Read and Review, please. It'd sure be apprecieated.


	2. Chapter Two

D081 peered through the telescopic lens of his S2-AM, "Sniper's Rifle". He'd set the adjustable zoom to his preferred, field-rigged setting; times seven. Through it, he watched the Innies below go about their rounds, rotating shifts in their base of operations. Emotionless behind his visor, he waited for the night watch to leave and the dawn shift to take over.

After one minute and thirty-seven seconds of the next shift being present in their positions, he signaled the third and final phase of Operation: TURMOIL by utilizing the red, amber, and, finally, green lights on his and the other members of his squad's HUD's.

Laying prone atop the slag-hill, he looked the rebel base over one last time as his two squad-mates acknowledged the order.

The base was rectangular in shape; a thick, tall instacrete wall guarded the perimeter. Barbed-wire was run across it's top. Placed periodically inside it were twelve twenty-foot tall watch-towers, each housing two men. The northeast corner of the base was a motor pool; inside were three standard Warthogs, an ancient Rhino tank, and two Hornets. The northwest corner housed a pair of barracks; the night guards were proceeding sleepily towards them. The rest of the base was relatively empty, except for a low-lying command post in the center not far from the gate.

Perfect.

Taking careful aim at a metal pole nearest him, D081 lined up his shot. It was going to be quite difficult; he'd have to angle it just right. Once sure of himself, he fired.

The 14.5x114mm armor-piercing, fin-stabilized, discarding-sabot round erupted from the end of the barrel in a cloud of flame of and smog. It soared through the air at a rate of hundreds of feet per second, until it found his target; the metal support beam of a watch-tower. The high-velocity round rebounded from the steel rod and crossed the courtyard, nailing a guard in the chest and going straight through his body.

The guards began shouting and pointing in the direction the round had travelled to, following the smoke trail. Heavy machine guns mounted on the closer towers bathed the hilltop in tracer rounds as men hurried to the motor pool. Floodlights filled the outside of the base as men on foot tried to hunt down the sniper.

But they were all heading the wrong direction.

Having taken advantage of the gun's notorious smoke trail, D081 had tricked them into throwing their forces into the wrong direction. A costly mistake.

Sighting off to the south, he noticed D485 getting into position with the heavy weapons. The already big Marine was a behemoth in their MJORNIR Mark VII Powered Assault Armor. It had numerous advancements over the Mark VI armor; most notably the adjustable zoom feature on the visor, the replacement of the motion detector on the HUD by a seismograph, and multiple camouflaging plates on key positions all over the body. It was also suitable for non-SPARTANs to wear thanks to several handicaps.

While thinking this, he was a little surprised when D485 blew the gate.

The instacrete wall was shattered into a million spinning fragments, sending debris soaring through the air, away from the immense ball of hellfire. Once the smoke cleared, D485 fired with his second rocket; it struck the Rhino tank dead on and detonated, the explosion taking a dozen of the Innies with it. Reloading, D458 stepped inside and fired again, this time into the command tower. The lower levels exploded, sending pieces of masonry and shards of glass spurting from all sides as the building fell down to collapse in on top of itself. Firing once more into the base of a tower, D485 paused to reload once more.

Realizing that he was dry for the moment, a squad of the Innies charged him, spraying their MA5Cs on full auto towards him. The majority of the rounds missed, but those that made contact were merely repulsed by D485's shields. The Mark VII had some powerful shielding.

Doing his job, D081 began to mechanically take out the remaining guards in the towers with headshots from his rifle. D485 threw his rocket launcher to the side and hurled a grenade in the same motion, also reaching behind him to retrieve his CQ44 - the Close Quarters Rifle. It held a forty-four round clip, and could fire either semi-automatically or in bursts with the switch of a dial. D485 began to mop up the Innie resistance, the 'clack-clack' of the rifle thundering across the morning air.

The last guard felled, D081 called up D223 with the COM. "D223, you're clear to proceed." A green acknowledgment light answered him, and D081 saw a figure vault over the instacrete wall and into the burning motor pool. It sprinted to one of the 'Hogs and manned into the turret, then turned it one-hundred-and-eighty degrees to spray tracer rounds over the courtyard. D223 laughed over the COM, saying something about fish in a barrel.

Sighing, D081 turned his attention to the bunker. Standing, he picked up his M66 Grenade Launcher and fired off a pair of rounds. He watched them soar through the air, into the base, and land nearby the barracks. They promptly exploded, tearing the metal siding apart and warping it. Inside, voices cried out faintly over the roar of the flames.

Several seconds later, it grew quiet. Setting the M66 down next to his rifle, D081 surveyed the arena with the infrared option on his visor, combined with the zoom feature. It was pretty easy to see that all hostiles had been eliminated. He called out to D223 and D485 over the COM, "You two grab a 'Hog and any survivors. I'll catch you on your way out." They both answered back green.

Attaching the rifle to a magnetic clip on his back, D081 reached down and did the same with the M66. Standing, he stretched and watched the sun rise.

It was a good day to be a Helljumper.


	3. Chapter Three

"Your last mission was a complete success. Sixty-seven hostile "Insurrection" personel were killed, three wounded and brought back home. One died from his wounds, but the other two were successfully healed, detained, and are awaiting interrogation.

"Excellent work."

"Now, on to your current operation. Three days ago, a radio transmission was received from UNMC Outpost Theta, on the moon of Z-87. It included an encrypted, live video containing some...rather provocative imagery. It is enclosed below.

"The United Nations Space Command Defensive Command has met with the top brass at HIGHCOM of the United Nations Marine Core. Having reached a decision after reviewing what little evidence we've found, the joint Commands have chosen to send in you and your squad. The three of you, Delta-081, Delta-223, and Delta-485 will be given transport with the UNSC Eighth Battle Group, which consists of a Marathon-Class Cruiser, _Etchelion_, and four destroyers; _Nostradamus_, _Apache_, _Stan Lee_, and _Yuma_. You will be stationed on the _Etchelion_. Once within sufficient range of the moon's atmosphere, you will be given direct access to the _Etchelion_'s armory. Immediately afterwards you will be sent planetside onboard a Pelican dropship.

"Once this is accomplished, you will investigate whatever is left at UNMC Outpost Theta, collect data, and transmit it to the _Etchelion_. Then, you will search the moon for any survivors for the next six weeks or until Command feels has been sufficient time.

"Good luck, soldier."

* * *

Sorry for the shortness, but I can't be arsed to do anything else. Looking forward to writing the next bit, though :P


	4. Chapter Four

The only real interesting part of the trip had been the stop in the armory.

Having proven the Mark VII armor to work like a charm, the ODSTs had sent them back to Songham for further testing, repairs, other techie stuff.

Due to this, D081 and his squad had received the traditional ODST combat gear; a matte-black mix of ceramic plating and Kevlar. Even it had seen alterations since the War; a larger magnetic plate on the back could carry two large weapons, and a seismograph featuring "Friend Or Foe" tags had been added to the HUD.

The armory. The three ODSTs had paid it a visit as soon as they were allowed. Having no idea what they would be up against, the ODSTs chose to instead accommodate for the environment; according to their briefing the moon was heavily forested, comparable to the Amazon or Congo rain forests found on Earth. The Marine outpost was located in the middle of the forest, a low-lying compound of instacrete bunkers, barbed wire and other such military furnishings.

As such, they'd each taken equipment best-suited to the situation; D081 had taken an BR55HB SR Battle Rifle, an old MA5B Assault Rifle, and an M90A Shotgun. D485 had also taken a pair of MA5Bs, in addition to an M7057 Defoliant Projector. D223 had taken another of the M90As, as well as a pair of M7S Caseless Submachine Guns. They'd each taken a full compliment of grenades, doubling the number of Incendiary "Firebombs" in order to combat the thick flora if need be. They'd also taken three combat knives, one strapped to the chest and another in each boot, as well as two M6G Magnums each. They had plenty of ammunition for each of their weapons to last them about four hours if they conserved it well.

With this accomplished, the three ODSTs made their way to the waiting Pelican and were soon on their way.

* * *

Six days, eighteen hours later.

They'd reached the Marine outpost two days earlier and were almost finished with the search. There were no survivors; but a few other Marines besides the one in the video had recorded messages with the hope they'd be found.

"Dead men talking", D485 had called it.

However, multiple bodies had been recovered, and most of them shared a rather odd trait; a messy hole in the chest, exploding outward as if something had brutally burst forth from the chest. The others found were mauled almost beyond recognition.

Another oddity had presented itself; signs of combat. In one room a trio of Marines had been found, standing back to back on a carpet of shell casings. Apparently, they'd attempted a last stand that went south. A line of bullet holes circled the length of the room's walls, as if they'd been shooting at multiple, cloaked targets. Which wasn't a good sign considering the fugitive Loyalists and the - at best - tense alliance with the Sangheili.

Whatever went down here, they had to find out.


	5. Chapter Five

"Sir, we've found something. It...requires your attention. Over."

"Understood. Heading that way. Stay put Dee-Two-Two-Three. Over."

D081 stood back from the mysterious holes in the wall. It appeared that some form of highly corrosive material at spattered onto the surface, and burned right through several inches of reinforced concrete. Judging from the orientation and placement of the holes, they appeared to have originated from a single source roughly a meter directly in front of the wall. They didn't appear to be caused by plasma or an explosion; more like somebody had shot something filled with acid. Strange...

Shrugging it off, he turned around and headed to D223's position. His fellow ODST had been inspecting the mess hall, while D485 was checking out the motor pool. They'd received a roster of the Marines and their equipment earlier that day, and were checking everything off to make sure it was all accounted for. There was actually some hope; according the report there were thirty Marine personnel on-station, four standard Warthog LRVs, a pair of Mongoose ATVs and a Hornet VTOL airborne support craft.

They'd found eighteen bodies. Three of the 'Hogs were still present, as well as both of the Mongeese. Wreckage of the Hornet were found right outside the perimeter in a shallow crater. This left twelve personnel and two 'Hogs unaccounted-for.

Sighing at the loss of so many good men, D081 exited the bunker and made his way across the gravel towards the mess hall. He tightened his grip on his Battle Rifle.

* * *

Entering the deserted mess hall, D081 found D223 waiting for him. It was stark inside; there was no power. The empty cafeteria had a strange, grayish tint to it. Several of the windows were broken and the room was beginning to fill with fog. D081 detected the faint stench of mildew and rot through his helmet's built-in rebreathers. The waiting ODST nodded for him to follow and walked towards the rear of the building. He then spoke over the COM, "Sir, I brought all of the bodies together as you ordered." D081 saw this; they were lined up as neatly as possible on the tables. Looking down the line of bloody corpses, he recognized the third one from the beginning of the line as the young Marine from the video that had brought them here. D223 continued, "I noticed something when examining them. It appears that there were three kinds of wounds found on these bodies. For the most part, there's a rather ugly hole in the middle of the chest, as if something just...burst right out of the inside. This is easily noticeable. Anyway, the second most-common. It appears that several of the deceased personnel were pretty messily shredded apart by a precise, metallic object. A blade. But it didn't cauterize the wounds, no. So that rules out Energy Swords. And the third...well, this is only found on three of them. Anyway, yeah. These three bodies right here were mauled almost beyond recognition of once being human. They don't have either the chest-holes or slash-marks."

"And this means...what?" D081 skeptically inquired.

"That we've got at least three different kinds of attackers here, possibly working together. My bet? Covenant Loyalists."

"I didn't come here for conspiracy theories, Marine. Besides, there would be plasma burns, more explosions, all that good stuff. Not to mention the kid in the video would've mentioned a couple of Baby Kongs and friends. So, is this what you brought me here for? To show me a jury-rigged morgue?"

"Not at all, sir. Just thought you'd like to know. What I've got for you is a little more...special, in a sense. It's out back. Guess it's kind of ironic...this place sure earned it's name." D081 didn't answer, so he disdainfully continued, "You know. Being a _mess _hall and all. 'Cause it sure as hell is where we're going." He then chuckled grimly and opened the double-doors leading to the kitchen. Just as he was about to question what he meant, D081's jaw dropped in repulsion.

Skinless, human bodies hung from the ceiling. The pale linoleum flooring was absolutely coated in crimson splatters of blood that had dripped and flowed down from those above. Internal organs, bits of fabric and shattered ballistic armor littered the floor. Doing a quick check, D081 counted eleven corpses. Leaving one man somewhere out there. Turning his attention back to this scene of carnage, he noticed they were all somewhat similar in that none had heads, some even missing their spines. Shivering under his armor, D081 forced down the rising bile in his throat and turned his head towards D223.

"What in the name of God is this?"

The ODST stood stark still, staring forward unblinkingly. After a few moment's hesitation, D223 answered.

"Well, Sarge, if you had to ask...I'd say this looks like a trophy room."

* * *

D485 turned his back on what was left of the motor pool and began stalking back towards the barracks. He was man enough to admit when he was scared; and this was one of those times. Or places. Whatever.

Suddenly, he noticed a contact on his motion tracker. Stopping, he lifted one of his MA5Bs into a firing stance. Squinting into the dense fog, he activated the thermal viewing mode on his HUD through his neural interface and did a quick three-hundred-and-sixty degree turn, coming back to where he was originally standing. Nothing showed up. Maintaining this stance, he keyed his COM and pinged D081. The older Marine established the channel and spoke to him, "What is it, son? Over." The man's voice seemed gruffer than usual. Ignoring this, D485 said, "Sir, I've got movement. Unknown contact. It was on the edge of my radar, approximately twenty meters away. As soon as I made a move it vanished...moved hellah-fast. Over." As soon as he said this another of the ghost contacts popped into place behind him, seven meters at five 'o clock.

Turning on his heel, he again opened the COM, speaking rapidly. "Sir. It's back. Seven meters directly in front, not moving. Can't see anything in this fog. Wait...gone. It just...vanished. Over." And it had. The ghost signal disappeared from his motion tracker. He waited several minutes, but nothing occurred. The evening was silent except for the crunching of gravel under his feet. This shit was really starting to get to his nerves. He hailed D081 once more over the COM.

"Sir. No sign of the contact. Maybe it was a glitch in the systems? Over."

"I don't know, soldier. You had a bite to eat lately?"

Surprised by this - to him - random question, D485 said, "Uh...no sir. Why do you ask?"

"You'll find out soon. Head on back over here to the mess hall. You need to see this. Over."

"Roger that. En route immediately. Over." He then straightened his back, killed the channel, and slightly lowered the Assault Rifle, attempting to relax.

As soon as the weapon left it's parallel alignment motion erupted on the edge of his motion detector, moving towards him from the rear. Eyes widening in surprise, D485 turned as fast as he could and leveled his rifle, but wasn't fast enough. What felt like an arm slammed brutally into his chest, sending him flying end over end through the air and into the side of an instacrete bunker. Coughing, he shouldered the rifle from his sitting position and fired into the mist, noticing a slight distortion growing closer and closer to him. Tracer rounds spat from the barrel on full-auto, kicking up bits of gravel and rooster-tails of sand around the target.

The strange distortion vanished, and there was nothing but empty air. Eyes darting back and forth, D485 reloaded the now-empty clip in his rifle. He slowly stood up and removed the second MA5B from his back, now holding a sixty-round, four-foot long bullet hose in each hand.

Peering into the darkening fog, he kept an eye on his motion tracker. So focused was he, looking for that mysterious distortion, that he failed to think and call up the rest of his squad. But this didn't occur to him; whatever was hunting him had just showed up as a fast-moving blip on his radar.

Bracing the dual MA5Bs against his six-foot five, two-hundred and forty pound frame, D485 prepared to open up with the both of them. It was going to be rather tricky, as the suit only registered the weapon in his right hand. He wouldn't have any idea how much ammunition was in the other gun, or even if he was firing at the same target as with his right. No matter; hopefully the sheer wall of lead would be enough to make up for his lack of finesse.

But he was too slow. Before he could properly ready himself, the unseen predator was upon him. It grasped the front of his suit with an invisible, armored fist. He was then lifted a foot into the air and hurled backwards, the burly ODST shattering a wall like dust. Now, he was a muscle-y son of a bitch by anyone's measure. But whatever this thing was, it was treating him like a rag doll. It had picked up an ODST in full gear with two MA5B Assault Rifles and had hurled him through a foot-thick wall of concrete reinforced with titanium steel rods like it was a pile of Lego's. D485's own physical strength just paled in comparison.

However, this wasn't the end of things. Somehow D485 managed to maintain his focus on the task at hand, and, as he slid on his back across the dusty, smooth floor he opened up with both Assault Rifles, firing heartily into the cloud of dust with a prolonged burst. Bright sparks in a multitude of reds and yellows flew off of the ceramic plating on his back, the hard surface scratching deeply into the floor with a high-pitched screech. He wasn't aware of this, though, as the dual muzzle flashes lit up his vision and the hefty weapons' endless fire pounded into his eardrums, despite them being deafened by his helmet.

Suddenly, he ran dry.

Throwing the guns aside, he jumped up to his feet. In the same motion he drew a matte-black combat knife out of his left boot and picked an incendiary grenade off of his chest harness. A trio of red dots suddenly appeared on his helmet, right on the visor. They began to get brighter, and he did the only thing he could.

He dropped to the ground, and hurled the grenade into the breach.

An impossibly bright flash accompanied by an odd-sounding 'boom' resonated across the room, causing D485 to close his eyes against it.

Blinking rapidly, he was surprised to see the obviously-enemy contact dousing what appeared to be red plasma from it's shoulders into the air, at the walls, and into the ground. It seemed to be firing blind.

Seizing the opportunity, the ODST's right hand shot down to his side holster, and came back up with a Magnum. He held down the trigger, utilizing the sidearm's automatic firing function. The heavy rounds cut through the dead air like a hot knife through butter.

And then his attacker vanished, the powerful, high-caliber bullets soaring out of sight into the fog.

Heartbeat pounding in his ears at well over two hundred beats per minute, the ODST stood and moved to recover his weapons. He then keyed the COM, and without waiting for D081 to speak, muttered between deep breaths into the mouthpiece, "Sir, we have a problem. Make sure you've got your weapons locked and loaded. I'm on my way over there.

"Don't wait to start without me."


	6. Chapter Six

D081 scowled behind his visor. Whatever was going on with D485 didn't appear to be good.

Suddenly, he heard gunfire and an explosion, followed by silence.

Then, D485 spoke over the COM, "Sir, we have a problem. Make sure you've got your weapons locked and loaded. I'm on my way over there. Don't wait to start without me."

Noting the ODST's lack of breath and hurried tone, he turned towards D223 and said, "Guess we know where all the ruckus come from."

D223 answered him while unlimbering one of his SMGs, "Oh really? How'd you reach that conclusion?"

Smiling at his mock roughness, D081 turned to walk to the door and uttered to the empty air, "Elementary."

* * *

As he walked across the stark floor, he heard something akin to...scraping. Coming from the vents. Lifting his shotgun, D081 brought it into a firing position and cautiously stepped towards the apparent source of the sound. He rolled his feet throughout every step, making as little noise as possible.

Noticing his commanding officer's new stance, D223 flicked the safety off of his weapon and moved it into the proper position to fire from the hip; his preferred method.

D081 was directly beneath the suspected section of ventilation piping now; but the mysterious sounds stopped.

An eyebrow quirking at this, D223 began to speak when the ceiling directly above him exploded as...something alien came crashing down.

He leaped backwards, eyes widened in a mixture of emotions behind his visor. He had a little more than a microsecond to get a look at it before D081 opened up with both barrels of his shotgun.

The wall behind the strange creature erupted into a cloud of Sheetrock and dust from the dual blasts of shotgun rounds. It was incredibly fast; it looked almost as if it were bred for speed and killing efficiency.

The - obviously alien - creature had a spindly, razor-like body. It was black-skinned, or armoured; it's muscles gleamed with a opalescent onyx. The head was...strange. Almost banana-shaped, which suited the anorexic appearance of it's body. It seemed to be covered in natural, bladed protrusions; ranging from a sixteen-inch long claw on each fingertip to a row of spines running down the back, to a final, scythe-like blade at the tip of it's immense tail.

Which was swinging in the general direction of D223's neck.

Ducking, the ODST fired from the hip; a trail of bullet-holes ripped into the dusty linoleum and already-pummeled wall. Yet this monster simply _jumped _over the tide of lead. It landed directly in front of D223, almost face-to-face with him. It opened it's mouth and roared, and what could only be a _second _mouth erupted from inside it's throat, snarling and biting centimeters from D223's visor. The man opened his own mouth to scream as one of the creature's spiked limbs surged foward on a path destined for his belly.

And then another pair of rounds from D081's shotgun caught it in the right flank, hurling it into the wall. Green blood erupted from the wound, sizzling and burning right through the floor.

* * *

Still panting, D223 managed to shakily change out the half-spent magazine in his SMG while D081 slowly stepped over to the corpse.

Whatever this thing was, it had to be alien. Possibly native to the moon. Though, that wouldn't make sense, as they would have been found when humanity first sent out parties there. Regardless, it was extremely hostile and to be handled with the utmost caution.

Opening a channel to the _Etchelion_, D081 kept his eyes peeled for any more of the...things.

After several seconds, he was met with radio static. Having been in the Corps for as long as he had, he recognized the various guises of static; this one was obviously that of a blocked signal.

Sighing, he lowered the shotgun and turned to D223, then firmly said, "You alright?"

"Yeah. A little shaky, but...I'll be alright."

"You sure, boy? That thing looked like a bat out of hell. And then some."

"Nothing worse than my ex, Sarge."

The three men laughed grimly, but quickly sobered. D485 had safely made his way back to the mess hall without any further interruption. D223 was the first to speak.

"So...it seems we've got two different contacts. The invisible Superman and whatever the hell that thing is." He nodded in the direction of the disfigured corpse.

D485 looked up from his Assault Rifle. "Yeah. Don't think they're Covenant...or even working together so far as that goes."

"Though, that would explain the different styles of mauling on the bodies."

"Guess so."

Now it was D081's turn to speak. Turning to their officer, the two ODSTs awaited his judgement.

Blinking a few times behind his visor, D081 thought for a few seconds, and then absentmindedly pronounced,

"I think I've seen a movie about this."


End file.
